


Will you let me tear your heart apart?

by TotemundTabu



Series: 30 THROBB SMUTS [14]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom Robb Stark, Dom/sub Undertones, Inappropriate Behavior, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Poetry, Shibari, Sub Theon Greyjoy, The Iliad References, Top Robb Stark, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 06:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: THROBB SECRET SANTA - Modern AU: They met over the weekend, have sex but never exchange numbers. Come Monday, surprise! They're colleagues at a new job and can't escape each other! Bonus if they had a quick connection and shared a deep secret/a fantasy they consider embarrassing/a vulnerable moment and now feel shy around each other. Extra bonus if Theon makes inappropriate innuendos in the work place but freaks out when-if Robb acts on it.





	Will you let me tear your heart apart?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lydia_Martin_trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_Martin_trash/gifts).



**Will you let me tear your heart apart?**

 

* * *

 

 

To be fair, they knew that when something is too good you should be wary of it.

Growing up in religious families teaches you that very well - that there's no joy carnal or pleasurable that doesn't have a bitter side of the coin somewhere behind, waiting to string your tongue; it's a lesson you don't lose not even when religion falls apart on you and crumbles from your hands as you discover you're queer and fell so far away from god's holy fucking plan.

But the good blinded them.

Theon's jaw dropped open and his eyelids fluttered.

He could see on the floor the clothespin and the flogger, laying between the penumbra at first, but as he felt a soft kiss on his skin, he threw his head back, arching his pretty spine, bucking his hips forward as to offer his cock to be sucked or to hump the air in needy desperation.

His ass was crossed by red lines of abused pink and scratched delight, his nipples stung from the awaited release that brought no pleasure yet. 

Robb chuckled, his lips brushing gently against Theon's neck.

“You're a sight for sore eyes.”, he whispered against his flesh before licking the sweet sweat off the tender skin above the tendon and sucking it, stubbornly, for minutes.

Theon moaned loud, closing his eyes, feeling his blood stain his own skin purple as the pressure pulled dense through him.

Robb drank the shivers, the way Theon squirmed against his lips and, as he freed the neck, he pressed a thumb over the newly formed bruised and slapped it. 

Theon let out another chocked moan.

Robb's eyes scanned him slowly, as if he was both in awe of the sight and unsure if it was even real.

“Green?”, he whispered, as his eyes went to Theon's wrists and ankles, kept tight by a cheery red rope.

Theon shivered, eager, greedy – his color-turned skin felt so sensitive and so numb at the same time, raw and exposed like all of him, naked on the verge of bliss.

On the body, so pale, the red rope drew a diamond-shaped pattern, tightening him, and staining him with soft, sweet bruises too.

Robb licked Theon's neck again, and he sighed and moaned, closing his eyes and searching for him with his face, lips quivering, breath trembling. They did not know each other's name yet, but a sense of intimacy far greater than knowledge washed through their veins and became denser, coagulating in their guts.

“Green.”, he simply murmured and Robb sank his teeth into his flesh, while his hand slammed against Theon's tied ass, making his cheeks burn bright pink.

Theon rolled his eyes to the ceiling, letting out the wettest, most smouldering moan. He panted and opened his mouth more, his damp lips searching for Robb's.

Robb's hand ran over the sensitive skin, on the delicate flesh crossed by the lines and tortured by shivers and tension. 

Theon's legs trembled, threatening to make him fall and yet the ankle knots kept him up safely.

Robb slid the plug out of his ass and lube dripped from the hole, slow droplets trailing down the thighs. Robb circled Theon's waist, and Theon could feel his cock pulsing hard against him.

“How much do you want it?”

Theon's lips trembled, his dick pulsed and twitched, balls heavy with desire.

His voice echoed hoarse and dark, “Please, I  _need_ it.”

Robb chuckled low, almost growled and kissed his back while pushing three fingers in and slamming into Theon's prostate.

“ _Need_ what, whore?”

“Your cock, master.”, he let out, exhausted, his shaft pulsing, reddened and needy.

A slap on the ass, Theon bit his lips, suffocating another unravelled moan.

“Ask for it nicely.”

“Please, master, shag me.”

He felt Robb's hand on his throat, clenching it tight and then the perfect stretch, as his cock pierced through his hole, filling him up, widening him mad.

Theon's mouth was agape, wet in desire, his voice stained and strained in murky breathlessness.

It left his lungs empty and his ass full.

And when Robb thrust, he moaned mute, and louder than ever.

 

*

 

He loved purple.

It was the color of things one can rarely forget, of pleasures gone, leaving marks on the skin.

Bruises. Wine stains. Scratches.

Theon flicked his lips with his thumb, caressing them, at the thought of the past weekend.

His lips were fairly bruised still, swollen too, as desperate looking as his cock did right before he spent, but it was the rest of his body that bore the heavy and darkest signs. His neck and shoulders were constellations of bite marks and hickeys, all claiming attention, his ass red and pulsing.

He put on a shirt and tie and then covered what could still be seen with foundation.

A tattoo-covering one had been one of the best buys of his life.

Then Theon looked on the side of his table, where a bottle of red wine was still standing since when he had come back home and needed a drink before sleep. He poured himself some and gulped it down.

Sweet, too sweet almost.

“... _And purple-stained mouth; that I might drink, and leave the world unseen, and with thee fade away into the forest dim_...”, he mumbled, in front of the mirror. 

He swallowed dark and dry.

He did regret not asking _his_ name or his number, but he couldn't have done otherwise.

One thing was a good – well, great – after convention, quick taste test behind anonymous contracts, one thing was... making it a thing.

_Maybe next time, we will meet again_ , he thought, almost too quickly, almost ashamed of himself.

The last things he needed, to be fair, was somebody to find out he was into that shit.

He was lucky Tyrion had found him that job and there he was: edging the day before and drinking wine the same morning, risking to waste an occasion again.

But... as he remembered the pressure of those hands on his throat, a shiver escaped him, almost a whimper. Hands so big and strong... it made him shudder just remembering them.

And his voice. His voice echoed through his ribs like it had lived in that cage of bones for years.

And Theon hadn’t managed to wash it away the night before and had the sensation he was not going to be able to for a long while.

He took another gulp of wine and hoped his therapist would have never found out about it.

When he exited to go to the office, he hoped that, at least for once, things may go his way regardless of the last two days, even just as universal payback for the effort he had put in in the last months: he returned to eating, he started taking care of himself, he finally cleaned his house and put himself up to some more healthy coping mechanisms than his old ones, he tried to make up for the wasted years for real. Tyrion had even found him a job, which was way beyond his obligations as a therapist, but he had because, he said, he had in the family someone who could help.

Theon hadn’t considered working in editing.

He started his literature studies sure of becoming a professor or remaining in the academia, a place he adored and longed for for so long.

Until Ramsay.

And then, then again, then after him... nothing was anymore the same.

It all became dirty and rotten, until nothing felt true and limpid anymore.

Maybe a change was really for the best.

The place looked nice: wooden furniture, which is rare for offices, a lot of white everywhere, mostly open spaces but with a couple of closed offices. He spotted a big door with “conference room” written over it from which emerged a delicious scent of coffee. Theon found himself craving the bitterness of it just as bad as the sweetness of past night's kiss.

He felt his cock twitch with that weird desire.

He remembered that amazing cock inside him, the hand on his neck, the words so hard and so hot that they smouldered his skin to the core.

The secretary looked at him, blinking. She looked familiar with red, auburn hair and baby blue eyes.

“Can I help you? Are you here for the interview? Mr. Greyjoy?”

Theon nodded and received a small form to fill in.

“Mr. Stark will see you soon.”

Theon froze. He expected the interview to be with some HR personnel, not directly with the president of the publishing house; but the girl seemed to read his mind.

“We're quite small, mr. Greyjoy, and a family business. - she smiled – But I promise you, my brother won't bite.”

Theon let out a small chuckle and a smirk.

“That's a shame.”, he replied, without realizing how flirty his voice sounded.

She didn't seem to object, she just frowned and returned to glance at her computer. Theon was sure he had seen that face before, but he couldn't pin point where.

“He will see you now. - she said, smiling – Please, follow me to his office.”

 

*

 

Robb closed his laptop and massaged his eyes, sighing deeply. His glasses were resting against his knuckles, threatening to fall.

He groaned, putting the glasses off, next to him on the desk.

Tyrion had asked him as a personal favour to check out one of his patient's curriculums and, well, it was impressive. Except for a two year gap in which he had done nothing, or, better, as Tyrion put it “professionally, I can't tell you why, but trust me you'd give him a chance, if you knew” . And Robb was all over really positive about listening to this guy, give him a job – god knows they did need a damn new editor. Their previous best one, Sam, had managed to write some successful novels, and Robb didn't really have the heart to tell him they needed him full time, when he knew he was continuing to write and was getting such good reviews.

But... Robb really couldn't focus that day.

His mind kept wandering, running away, like a damn mustang, and furiously following a way darker, deeper thought.

_That man._

He couldn't stop thinking about it.

Robb was not really into casual sex – he was the type of guy who had long, solid, committed relationships, not many but meaningful, but... when he saw  _him_ , all his resistance, his moral compass, his ways fell apart.

There had been something to him: he was calling him, as deep and dark as the desire that flushes and rushes through the wet earth when it rains, and just as strong as the scent of the stormy sea shaking in the winds and twisting its salt in the air.

It was a call, it was a need.

And Robb let himself go.

He had wished for years to try some stuff with his partners, but somehow he always stopped before – he knew they may have judged, or misunderstood, or that trust was not there... and how ridiculous, how mad it was he had felt that trust instantly with a stranger? But he had.

It was like the gleams in their eyes told each other everything.

… and Robb was not sure what had possessed him to be all he wanted to be. He just was.

And it felt like such freedom.

It felt like truth and like air between his fingers and in his lungs.

He had wanted to ask for his number – damn, he wanted to ask for his name, a date, a dinner – but it felt so stupid to think that from one night of mere casual sex anything else could have come to be born.

And he did find himself almost ridiculous in wishing that.

But he couldn't wash that man away from his head.

He saw Sansa's message twitching on the desktop and he decided to try to be professional at least for the time of that damn interview.

“Send him in!”, he typed her.

And he really begged himself, his mind to stop remembering the way that back bent and arched under the flogger or the way his lips trembled begging for more.

_More._

What an absurd concept.

Greed, greed is a lust stained with the need to possess, it's gluttony that craves to stretch in time. And more is never enough.

And it felt more true than ever right then.

It was hunger as deep as if there were a pit of a black hole in his fucking stomach.

Instead there were just years of solitude and silence. 

Whatever, it's not like they could meet again... what could he expect?

“Come in.”, he replied, briefly, as he saw in his perimeter the door opening, and he raised his eyes slowly.

And there he was: the god of hunger, as beautiful as he had remembered him if not more under the dry droplets of sunlight, with his hair pretty and in order, a pony tail that rested softly on his shoulders, and a nice black velvet suit.

Robb blinked. He was sure his jaw had dropped.

The man blinked too, frowned at first, then his eyes went wide and his lips parted.

“Fuck.”, he whispered, ever so softly, utterly annihilated by the awareness of that ridiculous situation.

And Robb thought the same. And how to blame him.

There he was, standing in front of him, dressed this time, beautiful and yet incomplete without the blissful strains of pleasure running down his spine in shivers. Robb could remember every touch, every slap, every word. He remembered Theon coming, over and over, begging, asking for pain, for possession, for words.

The way he trembled when called a slut, a whore...

Robb moved, electric, uneven, unsmooth, “Ah, please... sit.”

The man nodded, but didn't move.

Robb's eyes ran to the curriculum. 

_Theon, Theon Greyjoy. 4_ _th_ _of March 1991. Pyke._

_Theon._

“....it's a nice name.”, he murmured, without raising his eyes.

“Look, I... - Theon chuckled, embarrassed beyond what could be told – I, I can go.”

“No , no, please... - a pause, panic – No. Sit, really. - he said with a smile and Theon obeyed this time, more because he was hypnotized by that little, shy, tentative smile on Robb's lips than anything else – I know this is not really... orthodox, but I did promise my brother-in-law to interview you and, frankly... - there was no frankly, he just didn't want to lose him again... as if one could lose someone who is not theirs or does not belong to them in any way. Oh, but he had, hadn't he? For some hours, just for some unforgettable hours at least. – I mean, you're here.”

Theon's lips quivered and he looked like he was on the verge of giving up, his shoulders heavy. He shook his head. He took up and wore a fake, smug look, a charming smirk, and Robb's eyes glanced at his covered wrists.

“Look. - Theon said, his voice still flirty, but now almost... angry? - I need this job, but don't mock me, we both know you're not giving it to me after yesterday.”

Shame ran to Theon's cheeks as he remembered the details: the twisted, wanton way his voice twirled, high-pitched, in the air, the way he cried about how big Robb was inside him, how between the “master”s a “daddy” slipped through once or twice. And how hard he came when Robb grabbed his hair and slurred a “baby boy, you're such a desperate tramp” in his ear.

He wanted the earth to swallow him whole and make him disappear.

“Why not?”, Robb furrowed his eyebrows, confused.

He seemed honest but that made Theon chuckle all the more bitterly and fakely.

“... well. Because you won't.”

Robb sighed but kept smiling, “I’ve seen your CV and it's good. We need someone and, frankly, I don't see why what you like in bed should in any way influence this. - he swallowed – If our places were swapped, I think you'd also give me a chance.”

“...wait. - Theon grinned – You're serious.”

“Of course. - Robb's eyes were so bright – But I tell you already, we don't take vampire young adult novels.”

Theon snorted.

“Thank god.”

Robb pulled a curl behind his ear and lowered his eyes, breaking eye contact while still looking at Theon. His eyes were mesmerized, magnetized, he could not divert them from Theon's body.

Theon must have noticed, because he blinked and gave a slow, widening smirk.

Robb put on his glasses and hid behind them.

When they moved to take each other's hand, they felt an awkward shiver run through their nerves.

Their eyes lingered on each other, slowly, lustfully.

Theon's lips parted, Robb's arm tensed as if to bring him closer, Theon's eyes were heavy-lidded, Robb's jaw clenched, they felt their shoulders pulling them closer but forced themselves apart.

“I, uh, let me show you the trial period contract...”

 

*

 

The thing Robb hadn’t expected though, was that Theon was funny.

Like downright hilarious.

He had a terrible black, sardonic, shameless sense of humour and Robb loved it. He had grown up in a very peaceful, loving family, very big and a tad bit too catholic, for which sex jokes and death jokes were not really common and Theon lifted the lid on a need he had had for years - to listen to the most plainly awful things in the world.

Yet, he was not vulgar in his appearance, he was flirty, sensual, always well dressed like a fashion magazine model. He was fancy.

Fancy and funny: bad combo.

Plus, he was smart. He worked well and quickly, he pointed out flaws easily, found incongruences... he was a great brain.

Robb realized soon he was majorly fucked.

Theon was objectively perfect. 

And he had wasted any occasion of dating him by fucking him that way, casually, like it meant nothing.

And then? Now they were boss and employee, there was no way he could have even suggested anything, it would have been horrible to force Theon to accept.

He would have never wanted to be that person, the type who corners people.

Above all, he didn't want to do it to Theon, because... well, he wanted Theon to want him, to need him even.

His father used to say: “there are two types of people: those who long to be told I want you and those who long to be told I need you.” and to be fair, Robb found he wanted Theon to tell him both, to scream both, to moan both.

And lose all the words in each other's arms. Or ropes.

He felt embarrassed remembering how animalistic he had been, how hungry – eager – greedy, even. How broken by his own need to dominate and take over.

He shrugged, trying to push away the strong sentiment of having lost something.

Robb sat at the computer, trying to figure out how to organize the next months of book tours, when a little message popped up in the corner of the laptop. From Theon.

 

_From: Greyjoy T._

_To: Stark R._

 

_Object: are you sure you want to publish this?_

 

_Ivanaka looked over the studio with a certain gossamer erotica staining her eyes a darker shade of sky blue. Julio, the gardener, caught her gaze and strutted towards her like a young wild boar, preparing itself for the hunt. He took the hose and let the water pour on his shirt, making it transparent. Ivanka gasped, delighted and wet at the sight of the beautiful muscles, drawn abs sculpted in marble flesh._

“ _Hello.” He uttered in a thick accent, breathless at the mere sight of her naked flesh, her bosom and curves, still so fresh and deliciously inviting despite the years. He took her silky hand and kissed it, his lips damp from the lust that had gathered in his mouth at the site of her._

 

_Regards,_

_a very perplexed employee_

 

He chuckled, licked his lips, smiling, letting his teeth run over them and then free them with a little pop.

 

_From: Stark R._

_To: Greyjoy T._

 

_Object: R: are you sure you want to publish this?_

 

_Unfortunately, we have to pay the bills and this stuff sells._

_Plus, in your place I would wait for the Julio chapter to complain._

 

_Regards,_

_a very mortified boss_

 

Soon, another ring.

 

_From: Greyjoy T._

_To: Stark R._

 

_Object: R: R: are you sure you want to publish this?_

 

_I am legit terrified._

_You had not informed me of the probability this job could demolish my faith in humanity and annihilate my mental health during our interview, mr. Stark._

_Any way I can obtain some extra benefits?_

 

_Regards,_

_a very greedy employee_

 

Robb wondered if he... no, he couldn't have meant that, absolutely. It was just wishful thinking.

 

_From: Stark R._

_To: Greyjoy T._

 

_Object: R: R: R: are you sure you want to publish this?_

 

_The job already covers our employees’ health insurance._

_But I'm not sure I can offer you the alcohol you'll need to forget this gem._

 

_Regards,_

_a still very mortified boss_

 

He found himself waiting, drumming his fingers on the desk, licking his lips. A weird drum in his ears and neck veins. Like a vertigo.

 

_From: Greyjoy T._

_To: Stark R._

 

_Object: R: R: R: R: are you sure you want to publish this?_

 

_Dinner, perhaps?_

 

Robb gulped, swallowing with labour the imagines running through his mind at a way too fast speed. He wondered if that was just Theon's way.

After all, he did flirt a bit around, he had that kind of tone where everything said is so warm and he had a taste for ambiguity and... oh, god, Robb’s mind was going places.

He needed to think of something.

Quickly.

The calendar in his excel file saved his ass for once.

 

_From: Stark R._

_To: Greyjoy T._

 

_Object: R: R: R: R: R: are you sure you want to publish this?_

 

_Sure. What about the book presentation gala?_

_I have to go there, I could use some company, and it's good experience for an editor to see the result of their work._

 

_Regards,_

_a very hopeful boss_

 

A couple of minutes passed and Robb wondered if he had done something wrong, his throat going dry.

 

_From: Greyjoy T._

_To: Stark R._

 

_Object: R: R: R: R: R: R: are you sure you want to publish this?_

 

_In the words of the wise and beautiful Ivanka: “Yes, oh, oh my god, oh yes!! Ah, Guatemalan gardeners sure know how to take care of any kind of garden. Oooh, yes, that's amazing! You sure know how to use your shears, my latino cummy bear!” ._

 

_Regards,_

_an employee who prays not to be fired after this one_

 

Robb snorted, laughing loudly enough for Theon to actually hear him outside the office. Robb caught a glimpse through the glass of Theon hiding his mouth behind his hand.

A smirk or a smile.

Robb felt curious.

He shook his head, still laughing and raised the phone.

“Sansa, add a ticket for next week. I want Theon to see a book presentation.”

“Should I also book you the honeymoon suite?”

“Two single rooms will do, San.”

 

*

 

Theon hadn’t seen such a beautiful hotel since... ever, actually.

It had golden columns, velvet, red curtains, classical music was being played through the hotel radio – Theon recognized Mussorgskji, Mozart and Mahler, they must have had a thing for the capital M – that transmitted what they were playing currently in the hotel’s music hall. The floors were cleaner than the table at his family’s house had ever been and everything shone and glittered like it had decided to blind the clients.

“Do you always come to places this nice?”, he asked, looking around.

“Only on special occasions.”, Robb mumbled, calling the lift.

Theon chuckled, darkly, “Only when you have someone with you to impress?”

Robb stiffened, turned to Theon and Theon seemed to just realize what he had implied. His damn mouth always running.

“Not... that you want to impress me in that way... you know.”

Robb nodded, blushed, hid his face while looking at the lift control panel as if it’s buttons were the most interesting buttons in the world.

Theon felt a weird urge to just clarify things.

But he was not sure how to.

He didn't want to pretend he didn't want Robb; if Robb had decided he wanted another night, he would have been so up for it. But he also didn't want to seem like he was trying to seduce his boss or, worse, put him in a position where he had to do stuff that would have been unprofessional.

But as the lift doors closed, all Theon could think about was slamming Robb against the wall, pinning him and then bowing down to suck his cock. 

He wanted to feel – no, he craved to feel Robb's hands in his locks, pushing his face down on his bush, ordering him to take all of him inside his mouth.

He wanted Robb to slap his face purple, to throw him to the ground and grind into him, tearing him open.

And there he remained, unmoved.

“I mean. - he chuckled, tempted, unable to shut up, unable not to try, to tease a possibility, to tip toe on the edge of disaster, _appel du vide_ perhaps, masochism for sure – You have already impressed me quite a lot in _that_ way.”

He glanced at Robb's crotch seeing a slight hill. He licked his lips, sucking slowly, then smirked.

“You cut quite a swathe.”

Robb bit his lips, forcing himself to practice self-control.

He couldn't. It was his employee and, aaaah, if he told Tyrion he had fucked him, he would have never hear the end of it.

Also... wouldn't that have made things even more complicated?

Or what if he gave Theon the impression he had been hired for that? Oh god.

The only thing to do was to not stare at him at all. 

“The party will be tomorrow, so I suggest you rest tonight.”, he said, as cold as he could, while his mind raced.

Theon riding him. Theon's legs tied to a spreading bar. Theon with wax raining over his shivering skin.

Theon kissing him madly.

“These events are more tiring than they may seem.”, he said, quickly, unable to drop the conversation, to let him go.

Theon, though, seemed almost hurt by that coldness.

“I'll be fine. - he said, the naughty, wicked voice now stained with hardness – I can resist far more than this.”

“I-”

“Actually. - he pressed the button that selected the present floor, and, as the doors opened, he exited – I think I'm going down. To the bar.”

Robb stiffened, exited too, got close, uncomfortably so for both of them: for Theon who wanted to pretend not to want it and for himself who still tried to keep himself in check.

“You can't drink tonight.”

“Why?”

“I need you awake and fine tomorrow.”, Robb tried.

Theon let out a smug grin, “I can handle my drinks.”

Robb's eyes fell and glanced at Theon's wet lips. And they lingered, intense and thick and heavy like desire.

And Theon's eyes rested nailed on Robb's face as he realized Robb was looking at him and how he was. And shivers took over his jaw and need washed through him.

Robb could feel his groin beg him to let go of any rational reasoning as to why not slam their mouths together.

His lips quivered, as for once he considered following his guts.

And just –

“I-”

Robb's mouth opened and he moved closer and his shoulders were so big as they moved to him and then... he stopped. As if his mind took him back, grabbing and pulling a leash.

“We can drink tomorrow. - he said so sweet, drowsy and desperate with the voice of one who is not saying what he wants to – For tonight, let's go to our rooms and rest.”

 

*

 

Of course, it had to get worse.

Theon sneezed, keeping the towel tight around his wet shoulders, while his drenched hair fell over his face. He cursed.

Robb sighed, handing him a glass of water with an aspirin bubbling in it, and then put his hands on his hips – those damn hips not pounding him – and said, as if there were no problem at all, “I'm making some tea, it will warm you up.”

“Thank you.”, Theon breathed out, annoyed.

He and his stupid idea of smoking.

The room’s fire alarm went insane and showered him and his luggage to the bone. And then he had to go to Robb, all drenched and wet, and ask what to do.

Robb, of course, refused to let him go and gave him a warm towel and a pyjama, but he felt so... awkward. That was not the impression he had wanted to give, at all.

He sighed.

“I'm... so sorry.”

“It's okay. - Robb smiled – I mean... - he looked away as he noticed the v cut of the pyjama top showed off some of Theon's chest hair – Who doesn't sometimes do something silly when really craving something.”

Theon's eyes shone. He noticed.

A little smirk.

“Smoking is a really bad habit.”

“There are worse addictions.”, Robb said, nervously, turning to check the boiling water of the tea, or to pretend to.

“Like sex?”

Robb swallowed down, “Alcoholism seems worse.”

“I suppose.”, Theon chirped. His eyes slowly ran down Robb's spine and he contemplated his back, imagining the muscles, trying to remember them as they flexed before hitting him.

Robb gave him a warm cup of tea.

“If your clothes are not dry by tomorrow, you can borrow mine. I always have an extra change ready. - he laughed – A habit I picked up after a terrible experience with gazpacho.”

Theon flinched internally.

His boss had a lot of amazing qualities: he was sweet, clearly cleaver, funny, dorky funny not sarcastic funny which was good, and handsome... but the sense of style was not really his forte. And one could see it.

He suffered at the perspective of having to wear those clothes. 

“I hope I won't have to bother you with that too.”

Robb shook his head, “Don't mention it. And. Uh. - his eyes fell on Theon's legs and his mind shouted at him to pull them open and slide between them, he forced himself to stop thinking that – You can sleep here.”

Theon opened his mouth and tried to hold back a smile.

“I couldn't. - he lied, trying to sound calm while his heartbeat deafened him – It's your bed.”

“I... - Robb hesitated, he coughed, cleared his throat, forced himself not to think about, not to imagine that but oh he did – I can sleep on the sofa.”

Theon licked the centre of his lips, slowly, just with the tip of his tongue.

He tried so hard not to remember the soft, delicious slit on Robb's cockhead.

But his glance fell to Robb’s crotch, to his jeans, to the tent in them.

“That would be abusing of your kindness, really.”

Robb's breath seemed to tense, “I... I think it's better this way, your room is all drenched, you can't sleep on a wet mattress and I mean.. - he scratched his eyebrow nervously – Getting another room doesn't make sense.”

“I suppose not.”, he smirked.

“Then?”

“But... - Theon let out a small chuckle, almost soft, surely scorching warm – Last time we shared a hotel room, we didn't really keep our hands to each other.”

Robb almost dropped his cup of tea, some poured over his hand and he cursed slightly, before putting it down on the table and turning.

“This time we're here to work. - he noticed the smug look Theon got and lowered his own – Stay here... - his voice was inexplicably soft, vulnerable – I... would never force you into a situation like that.”

After that Robb let out a twisted, wrinkled laugh, so dense with embarrassment that Theon found it almost tender.

That was the weird thing, he _liked_ him.

Robb was... nice.

He didn't feel forced or wrong. He felt just right, matching him.

Theon smiled, “I know what would break the ice a bit.”

“Like?”

Theon moved to the bed stand and picked up a copy of the horror they were there for.

“Let's read together some of this masterpiece!”

Robb smiled wide, shaking his head, then sat on the bed next to Theon.

“Gosh, and we will have to defend it tomorrow.”

Theon snorted, “I can't wait to meet the author, to be honest. - he said – I have to see they exist and are not a hallucination or a soviet complot to destroy western literature.”

Robb laughed, then took the book from Theon.

Their fingers caressed ever so slightly, brushed like the colours melting at dawn.

And it was electric already.

Robb swallowed, licked his lips and opened the book to avoid thinking about it. Theon's lips quivered with an unspoken gasp.

Robb cleared his voice and started to read.

“ _He pressed into her sweetness, into the fiery furnace that was the dampness between her legs_... - he tried to avoid laughing – _And he flew in and out of it back again, his torrid turgid extension pistoling into the glistering portals of her_... - he wheezed – _Womanhood. He rocketed into her door of femininity in staccato spasms_. - he cleared his throat – _Until they epileptically squished into a frenzy of simultaneous explosions._ ”

Theon shivered, “God, that... is still awful. And it was worse.”

“And she insisted on keeping it like this. - Robb shook his head – I'm so sorry I gave you this one as your first book.”

“It's okay. - Theon smiled – I mean, after this, everything will only be nicer.”

“Had it been for me... - Robb smiled, caressing the pages – I would have given you something by Keats.”

Oh.

Theon blinked, turning and looking at Robb with a knot tightening in his stomach. It almost hurt, yet he was at peace.

His glance caressed Robb's cheek and jaw and neck as he wanted to with his hands.

“...he is my favourite poet.”

Robb turned, a tentative, shy smile raised on his lips, “Really?”

Theon nodded, slowly.

“Yes.”

And he felt he wanted to say more, but couldn't and he looked at Robb's finger hesitating on the corner of the pages of that horrible book.

“Mine is Homer.”

A little tilt in the smirk, “Really?”

“ _From whose lips the streams of words ran sweeter than honey._..”, he quoted, by heart, forcing his eyes as much as possible to not slip on Theon, even though they, disobeying, would search for him still with their corners and tails, desperate for a glimpse.

Theon's eyes were heavy-lidded as he moved closer, pressing the sheet, reducing the tragic, heavy void between him and Robb.

“... _but now you lie here, torn before me, and my heart goes starved_... - he murmured, more hesitant, but a spark in his voice was pure lust, and a gleam shone in his eyes as they met Robb's stubborn ones, unable to keep away from his – _By reason of longing for you_.”

Robb opened his mouth and moved closer, bending slightly.

Theon could feel the dim din of the silence like thunder in his bones.

He closed his eyes.

Robb moved his hand to Theon's cheek and cupped it slightly, his thumb caressing his full, swollen lips, pressing on them. Theon quivered under the touch, starved for it.

And Robb moved away.

Theon let out a tensed smile.

“Ops.”

“Ops... indeed.”, Robb whispered, breathing heavy. He was hard, Theon could tell.

He opened his eyes, “...do we... continue our reading?”

Robb nodded, frowning and clearly making an effort to focus. He picked up the book again and sighed.

“ _His plunging hotness penetrated into her passion-moistened depths and..._ \- his voice cracked with pain – _Soared over the edge, love's sweet lava flowed from..._ ”

And Theon laughed.

Loud, honest, bright. Rolling on the bed, repeating out loud “love’s sweet lava” hysterically, holding his stomach.

Robb stared, enchanted.

He was so beautiful when he laughed. His voice was limpid as crystal.

Theon rolled, then sat up, still laughing, almost crying, trying in any way to recompose himself.

And then Robb slammed their lips together and pinned him down on the bed; and Theon opened his mouth, letting him in, welcoming him, moaning against his tongue and his hard cock.

Theon's throat clenched, his voice trembled, his crotch pulsed as he threw his arms around Robb's neck and pulled him closer, as if they could melt and become one.

He wanted him so much …

And then it hit him, the realization: he fucked up. He majorly did. He acted on fucking impulse and was rolling in bed with his boss.

Theon panted and bit Robb's lips, gaining back a curse and air, freeing himself from that craved contact.

Robb looked at him, lost.

“Did I... - he almost moved away but Theon's hands were still strong around his neck, keeping him close, so he just frowned, confused – Did I do something wrong?”

Theon looked at him, then down, to his Adam’s apple, jumping in tension.

“This is not about the job. - he said, quickly – It was never about the job.”

Robb smiled, caressing Theon's hair. “I know.”, he promised, sweetly.

“...will this ruin it?”

“I... - Robb sighed – This is not responsible at all. - he admitted, but he felt his heart tense – But I can't imagine any way in this world in which being with you could be bad.”

Theon smiled and closed his eyes, opening his mouth, eager, and taking Robb's voracious kiss again. Finally.

 

*

 

Theon sighed deeply.

“I feel so uncomfortable.”

Robb gloated, “Well, you look real fine to me.”

“It's a gala. - Theon pouted – And I'm in jeans and a shirt without a tie.”

“Skinny, black jeans.”

“They're large. - he said, looking at Robb's legs – And they used to be black is more like it.”

Robb was smiling ear to ear, “I still like it.”

Theon sighed, “Is it just because you feel like you marked me this way or something?”

“Perhaps.”

“As if the giant hickey were not enough. - he sighed, rolling his eyes – The shirt collar barely covers it.”

Robb smiled, mischievous. His blue eyes sparkled.

“If you want, I have another type of collar you can try.”

Theon bit his lips.

“After the gala, boss.”

Robb bent forward slightly and smiled, while whispering into Theon's ear, “I didn't hear well.”

Theon smirked, sucking in his bottom lip.

The words burnt on his tongue.

“ _Master._ ”

 


End file.
